


All Eyes On You

by Lacerta26



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, but it's mostly Eggsy being a little shit, tiny bit of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-12 13:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18012029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacerta26/pseuds/Lacerta26
Summary: ‘What’s this supposed to be teaching me Harry?’‘That you can enjoy being looked at, that you can enjoy it when I take you out and show you off,’ Harry whispers in his ear, hand resting entirely too high on Eggsy’s thigh for this stage in the evening.‘No one’s looking at us, Harry.’Harry moves his hand to Eggsy’s hip, ‘aren’t they?’*Harry shows Eggsy how good it feels to be the centre of attention.





	All Eyes On You

The first time Eggsy pecks Harry on the cheek in Waitrose, adoring, and the old woman behind them fucking _tuts_ it’s like a bucket of cold water over his head. He knows what it must look like; Harry is almost 30 years older than him and always looking like an impeccable, wealthy gentleman whereas Eggsy gets into jeans or trackies, his snapback and ‘those god awful trainers’ as soon as he’s off the clock. It must look like Harry’s _paying for it_ one way or another and the look of disgust on the woman’s face makes Eggsy feel sick. He goes tense by Harry’s side and puts more space between them. Harry looks at him quizzically but continues to pack their shopping.

As they walk back to the Mews through the park, carrying a bag apiece, Harry tries to take his hand and Eggsy shoves it in his pocket. He keeps looking furtively at their fellow pedestrians, trying to gauge the looks on their faces as their eyes slide over the pair of them. What are they thinking? What do they see when they look at him and Harry walking side by side? How often are they being judged without him noticing?

Back at the house he abandons Harry with the shopping in the hallway, taking the stairs two at a time to get more space between them. Harry leaves him to it, coming to find him, half an hour later, in the study nursing a scotch and glaring at a newspaper headline about Princess Diana.

‘Darling, isn’t it a bit too early to be drinking,’ Harry says softly.

‘It’s after lunch,’ says Eggsy petulantly, Harry is not one to be lecturing about inappropriate drinking.

Harry comes and sits beside him, takes the glass from Eggsy so he can take Eggsy’s hands in his, ‘what’s the matter, Eggsy, talk to me?’

‘It’s fine I’ll get over it,’

‘If something’s upset you...’

‘That woman in the shop. I kissed you on the cheek and she just looked so _disgusted._ I don’t think she cared cause we’re two men so much more cause you’re...well…’

He flounders looking for a word that won’t dent Harry’s considerable ego but Harry finds it for him with a quirk of the eyebrow, ‘old?’

Eggsy shrugs, resolutely doesn’t return his smile. Harry pauses like he’s deciding whether to take it seriously and indulge Eggsy's strop or continue teasing.

‘I happen to quite like it,’ he says, eventually, a lascivious leer on his face

‘That’s because you’re a dirty old man,’ says Eggsy but he can’t help but smile now, his face heating up at Harry’s words; he’s always so easy for Harry, ready to do as he’s told and he knows where this is going.

‘And what if I am? I’m definitely the wrong side of 50 and yet here I am with a beautiful, flexible,’ he punctuates his sentence with his thumb trailing across Eggsy’s bottom lip, ‘loyal’, and when he says loyal he doesn’t mean loyal, he means _obedient_ , ‘young man. Why wouldn’t I want to show you off? Why wouldn’t I want people to see how good you are for me?’

Eggsy shudders out a breath but he’s still fighting with that lingering kernel of shame? Embarrassment?

‘And you can do that? Enjoy it and not care what people think?’

‘My dear, I’ve been practicing for 30 years. In fact...yes, we’re going out tonight. And you should wear...that blue suit, the single breasted. I’ll show you how easy it is to enjoy being the centre of attention, for good or ill,’ he stands up, leaves Eggsy panting after him dick already half hard in his jeans.

‘Why can’t you show me now?’ Eggsy says, breathless.

‘There isn’t an audience in here,’ says Harry, simply.

 

Eggsy does enjoy it, standing a pace behind Harry in their bedroom watching him in the mirror doing his tie in a full windsor. Eggsy isn’t wearing a tie. His suit is sharply modern in contrast to Harry’s traditional elegance like Harry is old money and Eggsy is nouveau riche, if that. When Harry’s done faffing with his cufflinks he turns and smiles, that easy, dirty smile that makes Eggsy hot under the collar, closing the distance between them to tease at Eggsy’s hair, unsticking a few strands so they fall on his forehead.

‘Why do I feel like you’re dressing me up as your bit of rough?’

‘Because that’s exactly what I’m doing,’ says Harry, pressing a gentle kiss to Eggsy’s mouth, ‘are you ready?’

Eggsy’s definitely pouting and he knows that makes it worse but he still lowers his eyes when he says, ‘yes, Harry.’

They’ve played this game before but never in public.

‘Good boy,’ and Harry saying that in his silky, low rumble is enough to get Eggsy’s dick fully on board at least. The rest of him might stumble slightly as he follows Harry down to the waiting cab but that’s only because these trousers aren’t very forgiving.

 

The club, private members rather than dance, is very exclusive. So exclusive Eggsy’s pretty sure you have to sacrifice a swan or something equally posh and twisted to get a membership. Harry is exactly that posh and that twisted so they are granted entrance with barely a glance.  

‘This way gentlemen,’ says the hostess, leading them from the foyer into the club proper.

‘Thank you, I can take it from here,’ says Harry once they reach the plushly carpeted lounge and steers Eggsy to the bar with a hand, hot, at the small of his back.

They settle onto stools at the bar and all Harry has to do is hold up two fingers for a pair of martinis to be set down in front them. Living like this Eggsy isn’t sure why Harry isn’t more of an obnoxiously entitled show off but if it’s Eggsy he’s showing off maybe he can let it slide. Still, he’s going to make Harry spell it out. He loves it when Harry tells him things, teaches him how to live in this world Harry inhabits as easy as breathing.

‘What’s this supposed to be teaching me Harry?’

‘That you can enjoy being looked at, that you can enjoy it when I take you out and show you off,’ Harry whispers in his ear, hand resting entirely too high on Eggsy’s thigh for this stage in the evening.

‘No one’s looking at us, Harry.’

Harry moves his hand to Eggsy’s hip, ‘aren’t they?’

Eggsy glances around as subtly as he can manage, not subtly enough for a spy, apparently, because Harry murmurs, ‘try not to be quite so obvious sweetheart,’ and realises people _are_ looking at them. Not necessarily with judgement but as if they’re trying to work out what’s going on here. Harry has carefully calibrated their outfits, they’re both well dressed and expensively so, but there’s a disparity, in their ages, obviously, but also their bearings and it’s with sudden clarity that Eggsy realises; they all suspect someone is being taken for a ride in the _arrangement_ they think they’ve spotted but _who_.

‘Maybe they think I’m showing _you_ off,’ he says turning further into Harry’s body, letting his hand drift to Harry’s collar to straighten a non existent crease there.

‘Now you’re starting to understand,’ says Harry his voice deep with approval as he takes Eggsy’s wrist and squeezes, puts his hand back in his lap, ‘what do you suppose they’re all thinking?’

Eggsy lets himself sink into the game Harry’s playing, wallow in the sticky, dirty feeling of it, he wants to drag Harry off somewhere quieter for a snog there and then but that’s no fun. A couple more drinks and he’d probably snog Harry right out here in front of everyone. Which, come to think of it, is exactly what Harry wants. And Eggsy loves to do what Harry wants.

‘They’re trying to work out if you’re paying me for it,’ he says, low, face bent close to Harry’s, a simpering smile on his face, ‘or if I’ve hooked myself a rich older bloke to buy me nice suits and even nicer hotel rooms.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Harry replies, eyes sweeping the room as if he’s relatively disinterested in Eggsy’s shameless display, ‘and what do they suppose I’m going to do to you in those hotel rooms? Fuck you? Make you work for it? Or maybe I’ll be so grateful I’ll let you do anything you want to me?’ His eyes when they make it back to Eggsy's face are dark with intent.

‘ _Harry,_ ’ says Eggsy and he’s aware how desperate he sounds, his dick, which had calmed somewhat in the cab over, is getting interested again and he can feel how red his cheeks must be, hot and wanting under Harry’s imperious stare.

‘Oh, darling, so you’re the one who’s going to be grateful,’ and it’s so fucking patronising, not to mention embarrassing, that Harry can do this to him and he’ll _like_ it. Harry smiles and it’s fucking deadly, leans closer, his body a tantalising line of heat that Eggsy isn’t allowed to touch. He hasn’t told Eggsy not to but somehow he knows he’ll be breaking the rules if he does. He sways closer and Harry sees right through him, leans away again, leaving Eggsy feeling bereft, and says, ‘ah, there’s Richard. Make sure to sell it. Come, Eggsy.’

Christ he might just.

Harry’s already up and striding away while Eggsy’s still trying to regain some equilibrium on his stool. The bartender is smirking at him like he thinks he knows exactly what he’s been watching, like he’d let Harry boss him about any day of the week, and Eggsy can’t help it, really, returns his gaze and winks, _back off._

He catches up with Harry halfway across the lounge. Harry doesn’t even break his stride, or turn to look, just slides his hand up to the nape of Eggsy’s neck and leads him the rest of the way, casually possessive. He doesn’t take his hand away when they reach the group of boring looking business men they were heading for, just pushes Eggsy forward when he’s done shaking hands, ‘and this is Eggsy.’

Not ‘this is my boyfriend’, or partner, not even lover and the thought of Harry referring to him as his lover in public makes Eggsy go hot all over again. Just Eggsy, gloriously ambiguous. The assembled men look Eggsy over appreciatively but it’s Harry they address.

‘Lovely,’ says one and, ‘Henry, you sly old dog where did you find him?’ says another.

And because Harry is a bastard he smiles and says, ‘I picked him up at a police station, actually,’ and Eggsy can’t even get mad because it’s _true._

They all start talking about tedious financial shit, clearly none of these men know who Harry really is, and Eggsy tunes out. Spends some time between one drink and the next gazing up at Harry adoringly which is really not that much of a challenge. It does start to get boring after a while, even with Harry’s hand on his arse, and most of the cliente really aren’t looking at them any more. Harry’s right Eggsy does enjoy the attention but really it’s only Harry’s he’s after, laser focused and where it belongs, on Eggsy, at all times. Harry’s been playing dirty all night but he forgets he taught Eggsy all his tricks a long time ago and Eggsy has them down.

He sighs rather plaintively, quiet enough that no one but Harry could hear, lets his breath gust hot over Harry’s collar and shifts slightly to press himself more firmly against Harry’s side. He moves his arm so he can get a hand up to play with the short hair at the back of Harry’s head, running his fingers through it, pulling, ever so gently. From this position he can just about see over Harry’s shoulder to observe the majority of the room. The bartender isn’t looking at them anymore but there’s a new couple at the bar that’s openly gawping in their direction. The man has the exact same look on his face as the woman from the supermarket earlier. Eggsy finds he really doesn’t care.

During a lull in the conversation Harry hisses, ‘you’re being needlessly provocative,’ as if he didn’t tell Eggsy to sell it before they came over here.

It's about time they got out of here so Harry can make good on all these promises. Eggsy leans closer, waits a beat for everyone to start talking again, ready to deliver his coup de main, and says, ‘I’m just so bored, _daddy.’_

Anyone within earshot would probably assume they’d misheard or that he’d said Harry but there is no mistaking the effect it has on Harry; he goes instantly still, back straight, mouth a thin line which means he’s gone suddenly hard in his trousers and can’t do a thing about it.

What he can do, apparently, is return his hand to the back of Eggsy’s neck, fingers digging in so hard Eggsy knows they’ll bruise, and murmur, ‘say that again.’

Eggsy shakes his head, bottom lip caught between his teeth, looking up at Harry through his lashes like butter wouldn’t melt, ‘nuh uh.’

Harry lets him go, steps away, cool air rushing into the space between them and Eggsy’s alone, face flushed and dick hard without Harry’s hands on him, Harry’s voice in his ear.

‘Gentleman, I’m terribly sorry,’ Harry’s saying from what feels like a million miles away, ‘we’re going to have to wish you a good evening.’

Eggsy doesn’t hear what they say in answer, follows Harry’s long strides out of the club, into a waiting cab and all but launches himself into Harry’s lap on the back seat, kisses him open mouthed and filthy.

‘You incorrigible tart,’ says Harry, teeth against Eggsy’s jaw

Eggsy arches up into the feeling, bares his throat, ‘you wanted me to enjoy myself.’

‘And so you did,’ says Harry, his hand sliding down to palm Eggsy through his trousers where he’s rock hard and straining against his zipper. For all their talk they’ve never actually done anything like this in public and the driver is _right there._ He’s probably seen worse and right now Eggsy is wound so tight and desperate he might just let Harry wank him off in the back of a cab. Harry strokes his fingers gently over Eggsy’s dick, finds the head, trapped by the waistband of his trousers and Eggsy’s gasping at the glorious pressure until, ‘now it’s time for another lesson. Patience.’

Harry takes his hands away, shifts almost imperceptibly, they’re still pressed so close on the back seat but it’s like there’s acres of space between them.

‘Har _ry,’_ it comes out on a whine and Eggsy doesn’t give a shit. Harry's been denying him all evening and it's working; he'd only have to say jump and Eggsy would be begging to know how high.

Harry does kiss him then at least, tongue curling against Eggsy’s, lush like a promise, ‘not long now, darling.’

Eggsy draws himself properly away, back into his own seat, so he can press his forehead to the cool glass of the window and get away from Harry’s wandering hands which keep finding his thigh or his shoulder, rubbing tempting circles with his fingers. When he has his breath back down to a more normal rhythm he glances out of the window and realises they aren’t heading back to the Mews. He turns to Harry, accusatory, ‘where are we going now, Harry?’

Harry smirks, ‘I thought I’d get us a room at the Savoy this evening, my treat.’

Eggsy is well and truly fucked.

 

Harry’s hand is back on the nape of his neck as they walk through the foyer, Eggsy’s brain is with it enough to notice that everyone’s eyes are averted in that way that means they’re definitely being looked at. They don’t even stop at reception, the lift attendant merely presses a button for the upper floors and Eggsy turns to Harry quizzically to find Harry smiling at him, a proper smile, not part of this game, one that says _don’t be an idiot_ and _we’re spies, remember._ Right, yeah. He’s been here on more than one occasion for a mission, the staff know them, or at least they know Harry. They aren’t really fooling anyone here.

He’s not ever been in the Royal Suite though and that’s enough to maintain the fiction so he glances sidelong at the lift attendant and plasters himself to Harry’s side. When they get to the room he clings to Harry’s arm, lets his eyes go wide, gasps, and they’ve only made it to the living room.

Harry chuckles, drawing Eggsy by the hand into the room proper, ‘I thought you’d like it,’ and all Eggsy can do is sink to his knees.

Harry’s hands go immediately to Eggsy’s hair as he presses his face to Harry’s crotch, breathes in and savours the smell of him, smokey and expensive, undercut with sharp arousal that makes his mouth water. He looks up at Harry through his lashes and sees him glance towards the door that must lead to the bedroom before looking down at Eggsy, ‘darling, you don’t have to.’

God knows what strings Harry had to pull, what sum of money had to change hands, to get them into this suite at such short notice but there is no way on earth, after the night of teasing he’s had, that Eggsy isn’t going to give Harry what amounts to the world's most expensive blowjob. He smiles ever so sweetly, lets his voice come out wavering and higher pitched than usual to say, ‘please, I wanna be good for you, give you what you want. Wanna show you how grateful I am.’

Harry smiles at him benevolently, ‘you’re always a good boy for me,’ and the praise sings in Eggsy’s blood, makes him hot and desperate for Harry’s cock, in his mouth or up his arse, he really doesn’t care which and Harry’s opening his trousers to give it to him.

Eggsy keeps his eyes open, looking up at Harry’s endlessly adoring face, breathes sharply through his nose, and presses forward until he feels the head of Harry’s dick breaching his throat. The sound Harry makes at that is animal and Eggsy swallows so he can hear it again; he feels dizzy, all his blood is in his dick and his mouth stuffed full. He pulls back, hollows his cheeks and sucks properly, tipping his head into Harry’s palm on his cheek.

‘Christ,’ murmurs Harry, thumb swiping at the corner of Eggsy’s mouth where he’s stretched around Harry’s dick, spit already dripping.

Harry makes strangled sort of noise and starts thrusting minutely forward like he can’t help it, like he’s going to rub himself to orgasm on the soft skin of Eggsy throat without Eggsy having to lift a finger. He does lift a finger though because this is getting to be too much, tries to do it surreptitiously, sneaking his hand into his fly. The first touch is heaven, lights flashing beneath his closed eyelids, but it must do something, a faint vibration in his throat, because Harry pulls back to say, ‘did I tell you you could touch yourself?’, voice too fucking level, and Eggsy snatches his hand away like he’s been burned.

Harry pulls his prick all the way out of Eggsy’s mouth, let’s the head rest on Eggsy’s bottom lip, dripping precome and spit, ‘you’re not to come until you’re on the end of my dick, understand?’

Eggsy keens in the back of his throat, swallows the drool pooling in his mouth to say, ‘so put me there,’ and Harry’s hauling him back to his feet to kiss him, soft and teasing.

‘Don’t be a brat.’

‘You love it.’

‘So help me, I do.’

‘Let’s go to bed, Harry, come on,’

By some kind of sleight of hand when they make it to the bedroom Eggsy is bollock naked and Harry is still mostly dressed. He all but _crawls_ on to the bed, Harry stepping up behind him to skim his hands down Eggsy’s sides, murmuring, ‘look at you, beautiful boy, do you know how stunning you look?’ and Eggsy’s pretty sure Harry could be saying anything in that tone of voice, softly praising, and he’d be gone. He feels out of his head, flying between all the places on his body Harry’s touching and all the places Harry hasn’t touched him yet.

Harry’s says, ‘turn over for me, I want to see your face,’ and Eggsy goes, lets his legs fall open to bracket Harry’s hips as Harry presses a packet of lube into his hand, ‘open yourself up for me sweetheart, let me watch you.’

Harry turns to bring one of the heavy upholstered chairs closer to the bed, shoulders flexing under his shirt and Eggsy’s mouth goes dry at the unbridled show of strength. Once he has the chair in the exact position he wants Harry sits down, legs crossed, the fingers of one hand at his mouth like he owns the place, like he owns Eggsy, and Eggsy wants to earn it.

Eggsy shifts to get comfortable, to give Harry they best view. The sheets under his back are cool and smooth against his heated skin, a welcome distraction as he fumbles with the packet of lube. He slicks up his fingers, slides them along the crease of his thigh, down to circle his hole, eyes locked on Harry. He play with his balls for a bit, rolling them across his palm, relaxes into the simple pleasure of it, not letting his desperation get the better of him.

Harry raises an eyebrow, communicating as clear as day that Eggsy needs to get on with it, and when he gets one finger inside Harry starts to talk, ‘all those people watching us earlier do you think they were imagining this?’

Eggsy shakes his head, presses deeper.

‘You’re so hard for me and I’ve barely even touched you. I love this, you know, seeing you blush, seeing you beg, seeing you so desperate for me you’re _dripping.’_

‘Harry, please,’ Eggsy says, sliding in another finger.

‘They all wanted you, darling, every single one of them. Couldn’t believe it was me that had you.’

Eggsy shakes his head again.

‘You don’t believe me?’

He sucks in a breath, tries to get his brain and his mouth in something like working order, with his fingers in his arse and Harry looking at him like that, ‘you’re well fit, Harry...always looking so...expensive...like I couldn’t afford you…’

Harry grins, ‘well, you know what they say?’ and he’s by the bed in a single stride, pulling Eggsy in to a kiss, ‘the best things in life are free.’

Eggsy doesn’t care about the rules or the game anymore, all he knows is Harry’s been teasing him for hours and he still hasn’t come, hasn’t got his hands on Harry’s skin. He paws at Harry’s shirt, claws at Harry’s shoulders as if he can somehow get them closer together, climb inside so there’s no end to either of them, wrapped up in Harry’s praise forever.

Harry shifts back, strips off his clothes into a neat pile with startling efficiency and goes to his knees. The first touch of his tongue to Eggsy’s hole is grounding, they’ve been playing with the distance between them all night but this is unmistakable; Eggsy belongs to Harry and Harry belongs to Eggsy. Harry kisses him gently, tiny laps of his tongue that have Eggsy keening, arching his back, shameless.

Harry bites at the delicate skin of Eggsy's thigh, two fingers rubbing gently at his hole, barely nudging inside, 'do you want to come like this?'

'No, Harry, inside, please.'

Harry goes back to standing, pulls Eggsy’s hips right to the edge of the bed and presses his dick to the soft furl of his hole, ‘ready?’ waiting for Eggsy’s assent before sliding inside in one unbroken stroke.

Eggsy feels overfull, skin tender like a bruise, just the sweet side of too much. Harry rests his foreheads against Eggsy’s and he can tell from the tense stillness of Harry’s limbs that he’s trying to keep himself together too. He wraps his legs tighter around Harry’s waist, draws them even closer and that makes Harry’s dick bump almost incidentally against his prostate, a sudden, overwhelming sensation that has him clenching down on Harry’s cock, moaning unbidden into Harry’s shoulder.

‘I’ve got you, I’ve got you,’ whispers Harry and then he starts to move.

It surprises Eggsy how close he is to climax, pressing his arse to the cradle of Harry’s hips to grind his dick right where he wants it. He can feel Harry's chest hair, scratchy, against his nipples and his dick, hot and slick, sliding against the soft skin of Harry's belly. Harry sweeps Eggsy's hair off his face with both hands, dusting gentle kisses against his eyelids, lips, cheeks as he rocks his hips in maddeningly slow circles. It starts slowly, the undeniable rise towards orgasm, like a freefall, overwhelming but too good to stop. Eggsy sucks in a breath like he's breaking water and Harry holds him close and lets him ride it out as he comes, hot and intense. He misses Harry’s orgasm completely, aware suddenly of the warm sensation of being filled and Harry murmuring softly, ‘good boy, that’s it, good boy.’ He turns his head towards Harry's voice, wants to hear it close and private, just how good he is for Harry in all the places where no one else matters.

 

The next week in the queue for the self checkouts at Waitrose a yummy mummy does a double take as she passes them, not concealing her scandalised expression quickly enough.

This time Eggsy just grins at her broadly and shoves his hand in the back pocket of Harry’s jeans.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments and kudos alway wonderful!


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